Dinner in Caracas

Down the broad, colorful avenues — Avenida Sucre if we are coming on the super-highway from La Guaira, into the Avenida Bolívar named for the liberator of the country — we pass building after building of magnificently functional beauty. Perhaps nowhere else in the western hemisphere is there such as imposing collection of contemporary architectural design edifices such as the new Polar Building on Plaza Venezuela which appear to be entirely made of glass — they seem to float without benefit of structural steel. We pass some of the city's 128 hotels — the Tamanaco, the Avila, El Conde, the Savoy; perhaps at night we visit one or two of the 32 night clubs, clubs with such funsounding names as Le Mazot, Mi Vaca y Yo and Pasapoga. But it is definitely certain that after we have taken in some of the sights we simply must eat, and so we take ourselves to one of the capital's 427 restaurants — perhaps the Napoleon, El Chicote, Quasimodo or El Punto Criollo.

There cannot be much question about what we are going to eat, for like all tourists, we must at least sample of specialities of the country. There is the Venezuelan national dish called hallaca — it is a baked pie with a corn meal cover, filled with beef which is mixed with pork and, depending upon the chef, with such other ingredients as onions, garlic, capers, olives almonds and sliced egg. There are other corn meal specialities such as arepa, polenta and mazamorra. There is hervido de gallina (chicken stew), sancocho (meat or fish stew) and mondongo (tripe stew). The name alone an enough to make the mouth water and the appetite sharp.

While we are sampling the native cuisine, we may very well also be surrounded by the country's music, music of the type so engagingly performed in this album by the native Venezuelan Aldemaro Romero and his Orchestra — music which is essentially Spanish but whose African elements are immediately apparent in its syncopation and use of percussion. There is the ever-present Joropo, exemplified here by Alma Llanera (Soul of the Plains) which, in itself, is something of a second national anthem — the Joropo is a happy dance, performed in jig-like movements b participants whose feet are equipped with maracas. There is the Vals, certainly a 3/4 time waltz, but with an underlying rhythmic pattern which sets it distinctly apart from anything else in its class.

— Luna de Maracaibo (Moon of Maracaibo), Conticinio (Death of Night), which comes from the Andean states, Adiós a Ocumare (Goodbye to Ocumare), Sombra en los Médanos (Shadows in the Dunes) from the state of Falcón, and Dama Antañona (Dowager) are all splendid examples — that latter, incidentally, a type peculiar to the city of Caracas. There is also the Canción a sweet type of ballad-serenade which is, almost necessarily, of urban origin — Serenata (Serenade), Fúlgida Luna (Bright Moon) and Besos en Mis Sueños (Kisses in My Dreams) are products of the capital city, while a bambuco canción entitled Endrina (Blackthorn) is from another populated center known as Barquisimeto. Rounding out this melodic tour of Venezuela and completing our absolute enjoyment of the city and the country are two further distinct musical types — Barlovento, an example of African Music from the coastal regions, which features special drums called the mina and the fulía, and La Reina (The Queen) from the state of Zulia, a type known as Danza Zuliana which in many ways corresponds to the well loved quadrille of colonial history.

Mr. Romero, who has been active in the music business for twelve years — two-and-one-half of them in the United States — was born in Valencia, Venezuela, and for an extended period has been a prominent figure in the entertainment world of Caracas. He has led his own dance band, as well as the General Motors Concert Orchestra, and for a considerable time was furnishing the music for three radio programs a day in his native land. Only twenty-seven years old, Mr. Romero points out that this album marks the first time that a serious effort has been made to record the music of Venezuela outside of that country. It has, of course, been translated into more universal terms, and it is interesting to note that, in addition to the leader, only one other member of the orchestra assembled for this occasion — the bass player — was a native Venezuelan.